It's no use crying over spilt milk if all the forces in the universe were bent on spilling it.

I don't think that's exactly how Maugham wrote it, but it gets the point across. That's how my week has been. Last week was euphoric, this week was horrific. But only in an internal way. Yes, it seems that all the milk in my corner of the universe has managed to spill itself this week, I'm tired and so many little bad things have happened--cosmic genitalia and whatnot--but REALLY HORRIBLE things happened last week and I sailed over them just squealing with glee. I'm tired of this inertia. I'm tired.

I have to get to work, so I'll stop complaining now. Hopefully I'll remember to make an analogy later about long distance running....